I have a boil. I know, boils are supposed to be reserved for creepy old guys who freak out young children with their grotesqueness. Come here my pretty.

Mine is not creeping anyone out but me because it is the size of a golf ball on my upper thigh, right near my lady bits. I thought I was originally growing a new leg until the doctor informed me of my deformity. I think I would rather have an extra leg because saying you have a boil just sounds disgusting. But, since I am in the habit of oversharing anyway…

I will not show you a picture of said boil. But I will tell you about my morning.

I was a bright and snowy (ugh!) morning, meaning that all Torontonians woke up with their stupid heads on. Especially if they had to drive. It is Canada for fuck’s sake. We have snow. Learn to drive in it. I digress.

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Author

Kristine Laco shares the stories we all have with a splash of sarcasm, a pinch of bitch and a ton of wine at Adulting In Progress dot com. Her middle finger is her favourite and she lives by the motto that if you are not yelling at your kids, you are not spending enough time with them. She takes selfies at the gyno. Taco Tuesday is her gospel. Reality TV is real folks. She is making turning 50 a job because she doesn't have one.

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